


Testing (One, Two)

by seraphina_snape



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (except sherlock totally knows they're being watched), Bisexual John Watson, Clothed Sex, First Time, Hand Job, M/M, Masturbation, Science Experiments, Semi-Public Hand Job, Semi-Public Sex, background voyeurism, unintentional exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-16
Updated: 2010-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:05:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/pseuds/seraphina_snape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is used to Sherlock asking for random favours out of sheer laziness, but this one beats them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Testing (One, Two)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Эксперимент](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5026993) by [sige_vic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sige_vic/pseuds/sige_vic)



> Originally posted at the [sherlockbbc_fic kink meme](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/575.html#comments) [here](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/575.html?thread=1189439#t1189439). Original posting date: August 2010.

St Barts. Now.  
-SH

***

Five months into their ... partnership, John supposed you could call it, he had learned how to decipher most of Sherlock's texts. He shrugged on his jacket and hailed a cab as he stepped outside, wondering what Sherlock could possibly want. He'd left for the lab only an hour ago and everything he needed was at the lab. Unless one counted the container of decomposing tissue Sherlock had brought home a few days ago. But then again, the text hadn't said to bring anything. Still wondering what it was Sherlock wanted, John paid the cabbie and entered the hospital. The night receptionist waved him through without even asking why he was here. John took the stairs two at a time, grinning slightly when the imaginary pain in his leg that still sometimes bothered him didn’t manifest.

Sherlock's lab - which was actually not Sherlock's lab, he just got to use it at night or on the weekends because he'd once saved the hospital director's Chihuahua from death of rat poison - was the only one with light coming through the rectangular window in the door. John hesitated a moment and peered through the glass; he wouldn't want to disturb Sherlock during a crucial part of the experiment. That would surely mean he’d have to suffer a sulking Sherlock for the rest of the night. Then he realised how foolish it was to stand in this quiet darkened hospital hallway in the middle of the night. Sherlock had probably heard the door to the staircase fall shut and was expecting him.

A strong chemical smell assaulted his senses as soon as he opened the door. John wrinkled his nose and grimaced at the foul taste it left in his mouth.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it in a few moments," Sherlock said without looking up. "What took you so long?"

"I came as fast as I could," John replied, a little bit miffed. He'd paid the cabbie extra to speed up a little.

Sherlock huffed.

"Well?"

Sherlock didn't react. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on his hands and whatever samples or mixtures he was handling. Eventually, just as John was about to blurt out that he might as well leave if he wasn't here to do anything but watch Sherlock work, Sherlock looked up. "I find myself in need of a third hand, so to speak."

Slowly it dawned on John. "Wait. You didn't call me here to get your phone out of your own damn pocket again, did you? Because if you did--"

"Don't be ridiculous, John," Sherlock interrupted.

"Well then? What is it? And make it quick, there's a film on in an hour that I want to watch."

For a moment John thought he saw amusement sparkle in Sherlock's eyes.

"I shall endeavour to be as quick as possible," he said.

Yeah, definitely amusement, John thought. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Sherlock said. "Come over here."

John rounded the table and stepped up beside Sherlock.

"You'll have to stand behind me," Sherlock said.

With an exasperated sigh, John complied.

"Unfasten my trousers."

John's hands were already twitching towards Sherlock when the actual words registered in his brain. He froze. "What?"

"My trousers, John."

"Oh, I heard you," John muttered. He took a step back and crossed his arms.

Sherlock hadn't turned around. He was still busy dripping little drops of a clear liquid onto a glass board. "I want you to open my trousers."

"What the hell, Sherlock? Why would I do that?"

"I told you. I require assistance."

"With _what_?"

"Achieving sexual release."

John blinked. "Sorry. I thought I just heard you say you wanted me to masturbate you."

"I did."

John didn't know how Sherlock could be so calm about this. Or rather, he did know, but he didn't understand. _Although,_ John thought, _it's probably the same for Sherlock. He knows about boundaries in the abstract but doesn't see how asking a friend to give him a handjob is wrong._

"Right." John paused. "I'm not doing that," he added, because Sherlock could sometimes be incredibly thick and needed things spelled out for him.

"Why not?"

"Why not? _Why not?_ Because, Sherlock!"

"I don't understand. You're currently not involved with someone else so any actions you perform on me couldn't be considered cheating. You have had sexual relations with men in the past, so you are familiar enough with the concept to be comfortable handling another man's genitals. Besides which, you are a doctor, which presupposes a familiarity with all parts of human anatomy."

"That's not--"

"Furthermore, you find me attractive enough not to be repulsed by my body. In fact, you exhibit all the classic signs of sexual attraction whenever you see me in a state of undress. Frankly, I don't see why you would refuse."

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Sherlock, what you're saying is true - and please don't ever mention it again, especially not in anyone else’s presence - but that doesn't mean you can order me here to get you off. It doesn't work that way. If you need release, you do it yourself. You don't ask your flatmate to stop by and do it for you, for Christ's sake!"

"Hmm." Sherlock reached for a different pipette and started dripping a second liquid - this one red - onto the glass board. "I still don't understand. You have never protested this much when I asked you to do something for me."

"That's because there is a difference between picking up some milk and masturbating you!" John shook his head. "I'm going back home."

John was already at the door when Sherlock called out his name.

"John!"

He waited.

"Please." The word was quiet and more sincere than John would have thought Sherlock capable of making it sound. 'Please' wasn't something he usually heard from Sherlock.

" _Please_ stay."

John was still determined to keep his hands firmly off of Sherlock's cock. It wasn't the gay thing - he was bent enough to admit fancying a bloke or two during his lifetime, and he'd exchanged handjobs and blowjobs with a few men. It was the fact that he was already deeper involved in Sherlock Holmes' life than he'd ever thought possible. He was the man's best friend, his colleague, his flatmate, his doctor, his errand boy, his sounding board, sometimes his babysitter, and generally his connection to the world at large. If he became his sexual partner as well – the consequences were unthinkable. And yet here he was, still waiting for Sherlock to speak ( _to convince you to stay_ , a voice in his mind whispered) instead of leaving.

"I have been painfully aroused for the last seventy-four minutes," Sherlock said.

Sherlock's voice had always been appealing to John, even when he talked about serial killers and lock picking techniques. To hear him talk about _this_ \- John suppressed a shudder.

"Usually, if my mind is preoccupied, my arousal abates after a short while. This time, however, it shows no inclination of disappearing on its own. Therefore I require assistance. _Your_ assistance."

"Why can't you do it yourself?"

"This is a vital stage of the experiment. It requires very precise timing. I need both of my hands for it."

"Why me, then? Why not that girl who works here? She fancies you."

Sherlock shook his head. "You're the only one I trust, John."

John closed his eyes. He didn't know if Sherlock really meant it or if he'd just said that to manipulate him into doing what he wanted. Either way, it was working. He slowly made his way back to Sherlock's side of the table.

Standing behind Sherlock once again, John hesitated. He knew what Sherlock wanted and he knew what, in a way, he himself wanted. And yet he couldn't bring himself to actually touch Sherlock. Instead, John stared at the back of Sherlock’s head.

"You start by undoing my trousers, John."

At the sound of Sherlock's voice, which seemed to have dropped an octave, John snapped out of it. He took a deep breath and - instantly faltered again. He was standing close enough to Sherlock to smell his shampoo. They used the same shampoo, but for some reason it smelled almost intoxicating coming from Sherlock.

"John. Trousers."

"Right. Sorry."

John put his hand on Sherlock's waist. At some point after arriving tonight, Sherlock had taken off his coat so that there was nothing but a thin white shirt between Sherlock's skin and John's hand. John swallowed harshly. He slid his hand around to Sherlock's stomach and opened the button of his trousers. The zipper required both of his hands.

Sherlock didn't wear underwear. He hissed when the zipper slid along his erection and then gave a relieved sigh when John's left hand closed firmly around his cock. Sherlock’s cock was heavy and warm in his hand. John found himself committing the feel of it – the texture, the smoothness, the shape – to memory.

"God, why am I doing this?" John murmured, more to himself than Sherlock.

He was a little surprised when Sherlock leaned back against him. "You are attracted to me. You are curious to see what sounds I will make when I orgasm, especially if you're the one who brings me off. If you could, you would watch my face. And you are excited by the thought of someone walking in on us."

John wanted to protest, say he was _not_ an exhibitionist, but right from the start he'd been aware of the unlocked door. The door that had a _window_ in it. Nobody on this floor was still working, but the hospital was far from deserted. Someone could potentially stumble in. An employee looking for a quiet place to take a nap, a patient who couldn't sleep, a guard making his rounds...

"Run your hand along the shaft," Sherlock said, breaking John's train of thought. "Keep the pressure as it is."

John did as he was told.

"Gather a bit of pre-ejaculate and spread it along the shaft."

John ran his hand over the tip of Sherlock's cock, spreading the pre-cum on the next slide down the shaft.

"Good," Sherlock said. "Run your thumb over the glans every so often."

John grinned. Sherlock's voice definitely had a more breathy quality to it now, even if his hands were still steady as he handled the pipette and the glass board.

"Like this?" John asked, running his thumb along the slit.

Sherlock’s hips shifted. "As a doctor, you should know that the slit of the penis is called--"

"Oh, I know what it’s called, Sherlock. I was just testing a theory." John kept up a steady rhythm, letting his thumb caress the head of Sherlock’s cock every once in a while.

Sherlock was getting restless now, squirming in his seat as if he wanted nothing more than to push into John’s hand. So John changed techniques. He let go of Sherlock’s cock and let his hand wander a little further down.

"John, what are you--"

"Shh," John whispered into Sherlock’s ear. "Just go with it."

Sherlock’s trousers weren’t very loose, but John managed to cup Sherlock’s balls in his palm after a little bit of manoeuvring.

"I require more stimuli. Lick my neck. Or bite it, if you’d rather."

John, concentrating on the weight and feel of Sherlock’s balls, didn’t comply immediately.

"John, _please_!"

John smiled and leaned a little further down. He breathed in the smell of Sherlock’s shampoo, the faint traces of sweat and something vaguely chemical. Sherlock, ever impatient, butted his head against John’s shoulder.

"If you are worried about your own gratification, don’t be. Feel free to do whatever you need to achieve orgasm. In fact, I am quite curious to hear whatever sounds _you_ make. Don’t keep quiet for my sake."

John hadn’t even thought of that. Sure, he was hard as a rock and if he checked, he would find quite a large wet spot that had leaked through his boxers and trousers, but so far this had all been for Sherlock. His own release hadn’t factored into it. To be honest, he hadn’t expected Sherlock to consider John’s needs as well as his own.

"Don’t mind if I do," he said, pushing the thoughts aside.

John wrapped his hand back around Sherlock’s cock and lowered his mouth to Sherlock’s neck. He could taste sweat, soap and pure Sherlock. It was intoxicating, but not quite enough. Considering that he was in a public building, giving his ~~colleague~~ ~~flatmate~~ friend a handjob, John decided he was far, far too horny for shame or embarrassment. He was just as desperate for release as Sherlock, and Sherlock wouldn’t care if John rutted against his back like an animal in heat. It was a bit of an awkward position, but John was beyond caring.

Sherlock moaned quietly. John felt his stomach flip. Sherlock, who had so far been quiet except for his more laboured breathing and his commands towards John, moaning like that was a huge turn-on. Not that John wasn’t already more turned on than ever before in his life.

John sped up his strokes and let his mouth wander from the spot he’d been sucking on up to Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock’s hands were shaking slightly, probably from the effort to keep them still. John grinned and sucked Sherlock’s earlobe into his mouth, catching it between his teeth.

Sherlock hissed in pleasure. "John. John, I really wish I could kiss you right now. Your tongue in my mouth, your hands in my hair, your body against mine, your--"

John interrupted him with a loud moan as he came in his boxers. His hand clenched tightly around Sherlock’s cock, drawing a breathy sigh from Sherlock’s lips as he jerked forward and John felt the first spurt of semen coming from Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock’s head bumped against John’s and he accidentally bit down on Sherlock’s earlobe.

Sherlock cried out and John could feel Sherlock’s body twitch against him. He grinned. It seemed like the great Sherlock Holmes liked biting.

" _Fuck_ ," Sherlock cursed quietly. He threw the pipette onto the table and twisted around, his hands pulling John’s head down towards his level.

The kiss was biting, almost feral, but oh so good. John could taste a hint of blood in his mouth by the time Sherlock released his lips. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before Sherlock fully released him and turned back to his now ruined experiment.

"Well, I could do with some coffee. You, John?"

John shook his head.

"Right then." He raised his voice a little. "Molly, a cup of coffee. Black, two sugars."

There was a muted squawk and the sound of rapid footsteps.

John felt his face heat up, but he wasn’t sure if it was with embarrassment or excitement. "Was she there the whole time?"

"Only the last minute." He glanced at John. "You like the thought of someone watching. I’ll have to ask her to watch us again when she brings me my coffee."

"Sherlock, just because I get turned on by the thought of someone walking in on us doesn’t mean I actually want anyone to watch. And Molly’s not going to bring you coffee."

"Why not?" Sherlock asked, zipping up his trousers.

John just shook his head, laughing quietly. “Sorry for ruining your experiment,” he said once he’d quieted down again.

Sherlock smirked. "You didn’t."

John glanced at the remains of the experiment. Sherlock had lost control when John bit his ear. A thin red line ran across the glass board, ruining whatever it was Sherlock had been doing. "What do you mean?"

"This," Sherlock said, gesturing to the table, "was not the experiment. I was."

At John’s confused look, Sherlock elaborated. "I wanted to test my own ability to regain control of my motor functions during times of prolonged external stimulus. Obviously I’ll need more practice to achieve full control."

John raised his eyebrows.

Sherlock stood up and stepped so close to John that their bodies were touching. He brushed his lips against John’s, gently this time. "If you’re amenable to the idea, that is," he murmured.

John just smiled and kissed Sherlock again.

 

  
_"He who controls others may be powerful, but he who has mastered himself is mightier still."_   
(from the Tao Te Ching)   


End.

**Author's Note:**

> [arumik99](http://arumik99.livejournal.com/) translated the story into Chinese. You can read it [here](http://bbs.jjwxc.net/showmsg.php?board=31&id=2560&msg=%BA%A3%CD%E2%D2%EB%CE%C4).
> 
> [sige_vic](http://sige-vic.livejournal.com/) translated this story into Russian. You can read it [here](http://slashyaoi.borda.ru/?1-0-0-00003764-000-0-0-1282691486).


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